Her side was hurting more with every breath, though it had started to harden into a dull throb instead. The change didn't really help the pain much, particularly as the urchin still needed to breathe. Try as she might, that one tricky part of being human still kept her away from swimming out too far into the lake or staying too long around a smokey fire. It didn't stop her from lying here, though, not able to move much while the woman flicked the broke boards away from them.
"Hey, mind the cap!" Charley said in alarm, pointing to her erstwhile head covering lying too many feet away from her. It had flipped over now, open to dust and splinters that were sent flying with the debris from above. Her eyes narrowed as she looked back at the porcelain-carved woman who had appointed herself the urchin's tender, wishing more often that the human part of beauty would come with brains. "I'm Charley, an' that's mine."
Getting restored to her cap would be just a little boon to her day, but one that would make Charley feel much better. Some witches couldn't separate themselves from that wand of theirs, while more than a few women lived by their dresses and calls. For her it was the cap, not just a sturdy piece that completed her urchin outfit and kept the sun off her head, it was just part of who she was around Hogsmeade. And most everybody here knew the urchin by it, too.
She could usually count on that, just like counting on her feet underneath her. Or the hips that kept those in the right place, too. Charley supposed today was just one of those unreliable sorts, and the grimace spreading on her face when she tried to shift only confirmed it. "It's my side, the one I landed on. I'd show ya, but ya might wanna cover yer ears first."
Charley put her hands on the ground like she was going to push herself over, and probably would if no one stopped her. All she did before pushing was pause a little to let the woman get herself all ready. "Hurts like mad, jes a little less than afore. I en't screamin' now but might start up when I twist yer way."
"Hey, mind the cap!" Charley said in alarm, pointing to her erstwhile head covering lying too many feet away from her. It had flipped over now, open to dust and splinters that were sent flying with the debris from above. Her eyes narrowed as she looked back at the porcelain-carved woman who had appointed herself the urchin's tender, wishing more often that the human part of beauty would come with brains. "I'm Charley, an' that's mine."
Getting restored to her cap would be just a little boon to her day, but one that would make Charley feel much better. Some witches couldn't separate themselves from that wand of theirs, while more than a few women lived by their dresses and calls. For her it was the cap, not just a sturdy piece that completed her urchin outfit and kept the sun off her head, it was just part of who she was around Hogsmeade. And most everybody here knew the urchin by it, too.
She could usually count on that, just like counting on her feet underneath her. Or the hips that kept those in the right place, too. Charley supposed today was just one of those unreliable sorts, and the grimace spreading on her face when she tried to shift only confirmed it. "It's my side, the one I landed on. I'd show ya, but ya might wanna cover yer ears first."
Charley put her hands on the ground like she was going to push herself over, and probably would if no one stopped her. All she did before pushing was pause a little to let the woman get herself all ready. "Hurts like mad, jes a little less than afore. I en't screamin' now but might start up when I twist yer way."
![[Image: UNpj1yr.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/bwXcVqtF/UNpj1yr.png)
Writer Notes: Charley is a street urchin in both appearance and behavior, unless written otherwise here.
Interactions may reflect Victorian-era morals rather than modern sensibilities; this is allowed and acceptable to this writer.